Just Shoot Me…

Shhhhhh. Please be very quiet. Be very still. Keep the lights low. I am actually wearing gloves as I type this to minimize the noise. I sit in complete darkness so they think I am asleep. I’m fearful they will wake up. The very thought of it terrifies me. I’m begging you. I can’t take another minute. I’ve been waiting for this moment all day. This is the moment in which I can be still. This is the moment in which my frazzled mind can catch up to my weary body. In this moment I can now find peace, inner sanctum, Fahrvergnügen. But I must not take this time for granted. I have to keep moving. Oh my God. Did you hear that noise? What was that? Is my tired mind playing tricks on me? No! There it is again. It sounds like it’s coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE! Dear Lord in heaven please don’t let them take me. I don’t think I can… “DADDY!!!!” “DADDY, I NEED YOU!”

Shit. Don’t these kids ever freakin’ sleep? I feel like they should have developed more of a lazy ass trait by now. I mean I’m a lazy ass. My Father is a lazy ass. My Father’s Father was a lazy ass. Their Mother is a lazy ass. It’s in their blood. We come from a proud heritage of lazy asses. Our lazy ass lineage can be traced back to Eastern Europe over 200 years ago. I just don’t get it. It’s going to drive me to drink. Oh wait. I’m already drinking. As a matter of fact, I just opened up a brand new bottle of Choya Japanese Plumb Wine (with plumbs added). Why am I drinking Choya Japanese Plumb Wine (with plumbs added)? I am assuming you are asking me this because you think that if someone was actually “driven to drink”; they would drink something a bit more potent to numb the pain. Perhaps some Yukon Jack or Southern Comfort. Maybe a good old-fashioned Ripple or a home made Grain Alcohol. Well, I finished all of that yesterday and I’m too lazy to leave the house, so now I have to hit the Choya Japanese Plumb Wine (with plumbs added). I am hopeful that this treasure in the apple green bottle will suffice. It promises satisfaction on the label. I will believe anything at this point. I am looking for a sign. I’m calling all angels. This is what the bottle reads… “The added natural fruit is called UME in Japanese. The organic acid of UME balances the beautiful taste of CHOYA. CHOYA will satisfy your taste buds to the last drop.” Even more importantly, it was bottled at 14.6% alcohol. That’s good enough for me and if for some reason that doesn’t do the trick, there are five small plumbs at the bottom of the bottle. I’m pretty sure I can choke myself with them if it comes to that. Cheers!

The irony at this point is that the only thing that stands between my big huge pillow and me is this blog. You see I usually have my beautiful, amazing and patient wife to take care of the kids on Sunday evening. She feeds, she bathes, and she tucks them in. She’s like one of those Ron Popeil infomercials. "But wait, there's more! Now how much would you pay?" I just walk around picking shit up from the kid tornado that hits the house every weekend. Then I get my glass of milk and cookies and write my blog. It’s an amazing deal. It’s almost too good to be true. But this weekend was different. My baby left me. She took a big metal bird to a far away land. A land so far away and so beautiful that I dare not even speak its name. That’s right, she flew Jet Blue to Boca Raton, Florida. She went for the weekend. She pulled a John Denver. “So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you’ll wait for me. Hold me like you’ll never let me go. Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh babe, I hate to go.”

My wife asked me a few weeks ago if it was ok with me if she took a few days off with her friends and flew down south. Because listening is not one of my stronger assets, nor is it in my contract, I said “fine”. My wife deserves to get away. She works hard. She makes my pathetic life easier. Besides work, all I’m really responsible for is taking out the garbage and putting my underwear in the hamper. All I’d need to do is watch my kids for the weekend. How hard can that be? The expectations can’t be too high. If I can keep them alive for 48 hours, I’d be eligible for the Parenting Purple Heart. But what about me? Who is going to keep me alive? What I realize now is that my kids are like Cockroaches. They’d be the last creatures standing after the apocalypse. Crawling around looking for Goldfish crumbs and Fruit Punch. After this weekend I feel like Chris Farley, John Ritter and Curley combined, just walking around like an idiot bumping into things, hitting my head on everything and doing part-falls down stairs. Not to mention that all of those guys are dead. Coincidence? I think not.

I knew it was going to be a long weekend right from the start. My daughters and I drove my wife to the airport. As we were approaching the terminal, my oldest daughter said to my wife, “Mommy, did you know that an airplane crashed into the water last week?” Nervously laughing my wife said, “Yes.” My daughter continued, “Everyone was stuck inside and then they had to jump into the water.” I was thinking to myself that she was way too young to be messing with my wife but it sure seemed like it. I interrupted her to add a bit of levity to the conversation. “Hey honey, did you see that movie Alive?” My wife growled at me under her breath. I kept rambling, “You know, I think I’m going to try and catch up on LOST this weekend.” I could feel my wife staring at me. “Very funny asshole.” At least I distracted her. When she got out of the car, all I kept thinking was, I hope she comes back…

This weekend was a blur. I’m not going to even get into all the shit that went down. I’m not a Rat. What happens in Baby town stays in Baby town. My kids and I took a blood oath. What ever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I will tell you that I literally haven’t showered since Friday morning. All I ate today was a cheese cracker and an alcohol soaked plumb and I think I swallowed a tooth. I’m not even sure it was my tooth. But as of 10:04pm on Sunday night, both of my kids were alive. My wife comes home tomorrow and I will tell her the truth. I had the perfect weekend with my girls. Ain’t nothing but a thing. I’ll even offer to watch them again next weekend if she needs another break. She won’t call my bluff. I just have to remember to shower before she gets home. Hopefully tonight in my dreams I won’t be Out-Numbered…